


Closing In

by Namarie



Series: Bloodlines [6]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 08:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3843340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namarie/pseuds/Namarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone from Liz's past resurfaces, putting both her and Ressler in serious danger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a chronological continuation of my (and Mack the Spoon's) "Bloodlines" series, so it will probably be confusing if you haven't read the previous stories.
> 
> Thanks again to Mack the Spoon for editing.

~~  
September

When she opened her eyes in the tiny dark space where she found herself, it took Liz a long time to comprehend what she saw and felt. The ground seemed like it was moving slowly, up and down, and there was a distinctive smell that she knew but couldn't put into words. She was in something small, and made of what felt like wood, with a few slits in the top that let in only a little bit of light. She blinked slowly. There was something wrong with her head – there must be. She should be terrified. She should be trying to break this box she was in. She could do that, couldn't she? If she transformed? But she just lay there, dully noting the rocking motion of wherever she was.

At some point, Liz raised her head slightly, and immediately groaned and let it fall back. She was dizzy. Her head felt like it was coated in thick cotton, or maybe something sticky. She blinked again. Drugs, maybe. She didn't remember where she had been before waking up here. But she had been with someone. Another long moment of sluggish thought brought the person to mind. Ressler.

 _Ressler_ , she tried. _Can you hear me? I … I think I'm in trouble._

She didn't sense anything from him, although she thought he wasn't too far away. “Ressler!” she called, and started to cough. Her throat was dry, and there was an unpleasant taste in her mouth when she tried to swallow. She heard no response.

 _Red?_ He didn't seem to be close by, but she thought she should attempt to reach him, anyway. _Can you hear me?_

Again, there was no reply. Liz reached one hand out the very short distance to the top of the wooden box and pushed. It didn't give at all. This was a bad situation.

Despite how clear it was that she was in trouble, Liz couldn't seem to keep her eyes open. Whatever they had given her, she thought vaguely, it must be pretty strong. Eventually the drug and the rhythmic rocking under her lulled her back to sleep.

When she next woke up, it was to the sound of a lock rattling above her. It took a long time for her to be able to drag her eyes open, and when she did she was looking up at two men bending over the top of the box. One of them was familiar. She squinted. The light behind them made it hard to see their faces.

“She's awake.”

There was a snort of laughter. “Not really. See?” One of the men reached down and prodded her in the shoulder. Liz frowned and tried to move, but barely succeeded. “She's not going to be dangerous to anyone any time soon. I just dosed her again an hour ago.”

“What about her bodyguard?” That was the voice, and the face, that was familiar. But he was in shadow, and it was so hard to think.

“He's still out. You want him, too?”

Liz tried to keep her eyes open. She really did. But as the two men continued to talk, it became too hard to stay awake. Blackness enveloped her again.

The sensation of being carried brought her back to consciousness the next time. She was draped over someone's shoulder, she realized after some time, and whoever it was was walking down a dark hallway. Her wrists were tied together. She frowned and stared at the zip tie. There was something important about the fact that it wasn't handcuffs. It meant... It meant she could... But whatever it was faded from her mind, and she sighed and closed her eyes again.

Just as she began to realize that she could hear two sets of footsteps, the person carrying her stopped. That same familiar voice from before, somewhere in front of this person, said, “Put her in here. Carefully. I think she's waking up.”

Liz was swung off the person's shoulder and righted, in the arms of the man carrying her. The rapid change of position was not welcome. She grimaced and moaned at the dizziness and nausea that resulted. “Gonna be … sick,” she gasped.

The man holding her swore and dropped her to the ground, facedown. She couldn't catch herself very well with her hands tied together, so she fell onto her shoulder and hip and then threw up.

It was the other man's turn to swear. “Get out of here and get something to clean her up,” he snapped. “And bring a first aid kid, too. You better hope you didn't just seriously injure her.”

The guy who had been holding her left. Liz lay on the ground where she had fallen, panting and uncomfortably aware of how close she was to her own vomit. She whimpered. Her head hurt, and so did her shoulder and her side.

“Come on, Liz,” said the man, from very close to her. His voice was oddly gentle. “Let's get you up onto the bench. Slowly now.”

Liz allowed this man to pull her up, slowly and carefully, and sit her on a hard metal bench where she could lean back against the wall. The bench and the wall were cold, but it felt good right now. She sighed.

“All right. Good. Now I'm going to untie your wrists, okay? Just don't move.”

That sounded fine. Liz was still, her eyes shut, as the man cut the ties on her wrists. She thought she probably should open her eyes and see who this was. It was probably important. There was, no doubt, a reason why she thought she knew him, and yet she felt a prickle of worry if she thought about how she knew him. But it was too much effort right now to do anything but lie here with her head against the cool, slightly rough surface of the wall.

Whoever it was who had helped her stayed silent until the other man returned. Then he ordered the guy to clean up the floor while he checked to see if “the prisoner” needed first aid. The other guy grumbled but didn't disobey.

“Liz, I need you to open your eyes for a second.”

It took a while for the words to register as addressed to her, and then for their meaning to reach her. In fact, they were repeated once before Liz finally pulled her eyes open.

“Okay. Thank you. Now, I'm going to shine a light in your eyes to see if you have a concussion, all right? Nod – carefully – if you understand.”

Liz was in a cell, she saw. It wasn't the worst one she'd ever seen: spartan, of course, and dark, but not disgustingly dirty. And the man in front of her...

Her eyes widened and she recoiled. “You,” she hissed. “No. How...?”

“Yeah, it's me,” said Tom, with that same lopsided smile she used to love. But his eyes were colder now. His hair was much shorter, too. “I know you're upset and confused, but I need to check and see if you have a head injury. Please stay still.”

Liz looked at his hands. One of them was holding a penlight, and one of them... She grimaced again and fought back another wave of nausea. Tom's other hand held a syringe.

“Here we go.” He raised the penlight and shone it in each of her eyes. Liz flinched but otherwise tried not to move. “Good, no evidence of a serious head injury. What about your shoulder? Your side? Anything hurt, Liz?”

Why was he asking her these questions? Why was he doing anything even remotely resembling helping her? Liz stared at him. Then she gasped, as her last memories filtered back to her. “Ressler! What did you do to him?” Her words were slurring together, but she knew he had understood her.

“Ressler?” His brow furrowed. “Oh, your bodyguard? He's fine. He's not too far away. I didn't do anything to him except bring him here.”

“Where? What are you doing with us?” She pulled her knees up in front of her and glared at him. When he made to take a step closer, she recoiled again, farther into the corner, ignoring the pain in her head and various other parts of her.

Tom sighed. “All right, I guess we're done with the drowsy, compliant stage,” he said. “That was a little faster than I'd hoped. Chris, give me a hand, would you?”

Liz's eyes widened again as the other guy – who was huge – stood up and came toward her. She screamed and tried to fight, but between the two of them they held her down long enough for Tom to inject the sedative into her shoulder. After that, unconsciousness hit in seconds.

It was the next time she woke up that Liz finally got some answers as to what was going on. She came to lying on the bench in the same cell as before. There was no one in the cell with her, but when she sat up cautiously, putting a hand to her aching head, she saw there was someone outside the door of the cell, watching her through the bars. Him, of course.

“How are you feeling?”

Liz narrowed her eyes and then sighed. She was still too woozy to contemplate following through on what she wanted to do right now – which was run over to the cell door and grab him by his throat through the bars. Maybe kill him, maybe just force her way into his mind and make him get her out of here. She would have to hold off on any such plans for now. “What am I doing here, Tom?” she asked instead.

“Believe it or not, I didn't capture you,” he replied. “The people who did are probably somewhere on your buddy Reddington's Blacklist. They work for a man who makes his living by kidnapping high-value targets and offering them to whoever shows the most interest.”

Liz rubbed a hand across her forehead. “You mean whoever pays the most. And that was you in this case?” At his nod, she went on, “Why? What are you planning to do with me? And with Ressler?”

He gave a mirthless smile. “Well, despite the fact that this looks kind of like a reversal of our last several months together, Liz, I'm not interested in interrogating you, or your boy toy. I don't think it would be worth the trouble, especially in your case. I don't need any of the information you might have. I wouldn't even have tracked you down now, but I heard through the grapevine that you'd been taken by these people. And since I happen to know some things about you that make you more valuable even than your kidnappers knew, I found you, and then contacted some people I think might want to take you off my hands.” He shrugged. “What they decided to do with your bodyguard is their business. I'll keep him alive in the meantime.”

“What people?” Liz felt her heart start to pound.

“People who want the Fulcrum – and, not coincidentally, people who also want Raymond Reddington dead.”

Liz gaped at him. Red had told her only the barest details about this item, but it was enough to know that supposedly she had witnessed an argument involving it when she was a little girl. She almost couldn't believe that Tom would know about it, or that he would leverage her association with it in this situation. Almost. “I don't remember anything about the Fulcrum,” she said, aware that she was not hiding her desperation at all.

Tom just shrugged. “Maybe you don't, maybe you do,” he said. “What matters is you were there. So even if you don't remember it, the knowledge is in your mind somewhere. I'll leave it up to my buyers to decide how to retrieve it.”

Liz stared at him in horror. This sounded like exactly the kind of thing Red had been trying to spare her from when she was little, when he had gotten her out of the burning house, hidden her away, and left her. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Clearly, there was no point in begging Tom not to do this, unless she were able to hypnotize him at some point. He had just shown her how little he truly cared about her welfare.

Tom had turned to leave, but then he turned back. “Oh, and by the way: I made sure the walls and the bars are strong enough to withstand a dragon's attack,” he said. He scratched the side of his face. “Though I have to admit, I kind of want to see you try to break out, anyway. I've been curious what you look like, even though it'd be a tight squeeze in there.”

 _Go to hell_ , Liz snarled.

He laughed. “Sorry, Lizzie. If one of us has to, it's not going to be me.”

As soon as her ex-husband's footsteps had faded, Liz took another breath and reached out for Ressler's mind. _Ressler, can you hear me? Are you all right?_

She relaxed a little when she got a response this time. It felt muffled, as usual coming from him, but he told her he was fine. Then there was a pause, and he asked her if she knew who had done this. The implication was clear, that he knew but wasn't sure he wanted to break it to her.

 _Yes, I know it's Tom_ , she replied. She wanted to start pacing her little cell, but she wasn't sure her legs would hold her yet. _He came to visit me._ She told him what Tom had said about his goals for his prisoners, minus the part about the Fulcrum.

Ressler's next question was whether she could just hypnotize Tom or whoever else came to check on them next. She assured him she would try next time, but that she hadn't really been able to move fast enough this time. He didn't blame her. She could sense his unease at the drugs he'd been given, and the thought made her heart clench.

Liz tried to reach Red again shortly after this conversation, but to no avail. He was either out of range or unconscious; she wasn't sure which was more problematic.

It quickly became evident that being imprisoned like this was much worse than her experience in Frank Vandenberg's warehouse. There was no one within sight for her to interact with; she could check in with Ressler every now and then but since telepathy wasn't the easiest way for him to communicate, this was fairly limited. Plus, she knew exactly what she had to look forward to once Tom found the right kind of buyers: she would be tortured, and when the people who tortured her discovered that she really did know nothing of use about the Fulcrum, they would likely kill her. Or they would use her to get at Reddington before they killed her. As for Ressler, if they didn't decide he was useless to them at the beginning, he would perhaps be used as leverage to try to get her to talk.

Some hours later (that was the other thing: there were no windows at all in this cell), Liz looked up at the arrival of Chris, the man who had held her down for Tom to drug her. He was carrying a tray, and a gun at his hip. “Dinner,” he said, barely looking at her. He unlocked the cell door, set the tray on the floor, and withdrew quickly. As soon as he locked the door again, he left.

“Dinner, huh?” Liz muttered to herself. If the man had been speaking accurately, that meant it was evening. She got up from the bench, stumbling a little before she caught herself with a hand against the wall. The dizziness faded. She walked the few feet to the door, bent down, and picked up the tray. It smelled good, and she wondered how long it had been since she last ate.

When she got back to her bench, she glanced up and saw that there was a security camera just above the cell door. Not a surprise, she thought glumly. It looked like the camera would be able to monitor the whole cell – except, she noted with some relief, the corner that had her toilet. She supposed that was nice of whoever had designed it.

Liz was faintly surprised to lift the lid over the plate and see that her roast beef, rice, and vegetables came with real silverware. Sure, there wasn't a knife, but the fork and spoon could be just as useful. However, the explanation for this oversight became apparent when, about halfway through the food, Liz started to feel woozy again. Drugged. The food was drugged. She pushed the plate away in disgust. She should have expected something like this. _Ressler_ , she began, _Ressler, don't eat the food. It's..._ She trailed off, blinking and trying to stay still as the world seemed to spin around her. She was still holding onto her fork in her right hand. “Damn,” she said, quietly but distinctly. Then she tilted over and just barely managed to stop herself from crashing into the metal of the bench at the last second. She wasn't going to be getting up again any time soon.

Maybe she hadn't eaten enough of the drugged food to be knocked out, or maybe it wasn't intended to knock her out. All Liz knew was that she was still conscious when Chris and Tom came back. She watched them blearily as they came into her cell. Tom said something to Chris that she couldn't really hear, and Chris laughed. Both sounds echoed strangely.

Chris gathered up her plate and the rest of the items. He was about to leave when Tom stopped him. He was smiling, amused, as he approached Liz. “Give me the fork, Liz,” he said, his voice still echoing.

Liz just looked at him. She wanted to say no, but figured her refusal to move would speak for her.

Tom sighed and took her hand. It was distressingly easy for him to uncurl her fingers and take away the fork. She wanted to slap his hands away. Her muscles didn't seem to want to respond to her commands, though.

She slept or passed the time in a daze on and off throughout what had to be the whole night. By the time the drug wore off noticeably, Liz had the humiliating experience of hardly being able to walk straight to get to the toilet when she needed it. Then she went back to the bench and sat down with her head against the wall again. Obviously Tom had decided to minimize any risk of her resisting or escaping by keeping her sedated. It had been effective so far, damn him.

Chris came by with breakfast at what she assumed was the next morning. Liz didn't move, even after he left. The food was drugged. She saw no reason to subject herself to it.

She felt something like a question from Ressler then. _Hey_ , she said, guessing he was worried about her after her aborted attempt to speak to him last night. _Are they drugging your food, too, or just mine?_

He was furious as he told her that he hadn't noticed any negative effects from his food. Then he asked her if she was going to skip meals, then.

 _For now, at least_ , she said. _But the problem is, that won't stop them from keeping me drugged if they really want to._ She would have to try to take advantage of how much it had worn off by now, to see if she could catch either Chris or Tom off-guard.

Ressler wished her luck. She could tell he was frustrated by how little he could do to help. _Thanks. And you stay alert, see if you can overhear anything or discover anything about where this place is, okay?_

He agreed.

Just a few minutes later, Tom came into view. He didn't approach as close to the bars of the door this time. “Not eating?”

Liz kept her voice calm and pretended she was still as out of it as she had been a few hours ago. “I'm not going to let you keep drugging me.”

“There's not a whole lot you can do to stop me,” he said, coming closer. “I mean, if you don't eat, we'll just hold you down and inject you, like we did before.”

Liz stood up, feigning a stagger as she did so. The security camera wouldn't be able to catch what she was doing if she were right under it, at the door. “Why do you keep knocking me out with that stuff?” she asked. She allowed her anger and scorn to show. “Are you that afraid of what I might do?”

He shrugged again. “I've learned not to leave too many things to chance.”

“I'm already in a cage.” She took a few steps closer. “Seems like you've got it covered, Tom.”

“Fine, you're right. It wasn't my idea,” he admitted. “It was advice from the guy who took you down.”

She was looking him in the eyes now. It would take more effort than it did with pureblood humans, but she could do it. She took a breath and reached for her dragon energy. “I want you to stop putting drugs in my food from now on.”

Tom looked startled for an instant, and then his face went blank and he nodded. His mind was harder to get into, but she had done it. Liz thanked whoever might be listening that Tom had apparently not learned about this draconic talent since the last time she had interacted with him. Otherwise he would have been more cautious. She went on, “For now, I want you to tell me where we are.”

“It's an abandoned hospital, on an island off the southern coast of Wales.”

“Wales?” Liz kept her focus with some effort. She had not imagined she was so far away from home. She wished she could remember what she and Ressler had been doing before this all went down. “Okay. Right. Do you have any buyers interested yet?”

Tom gritted his teeth, clearly not wanting to answer, but said, “Yes. Several.”

“Have you made a decision about who you'll go with?” She didn't let up the pressure at all.

“Not quite,” he said. “I'm supposed to talk to the two who've made the best offers again soon.”

“Good.” Liz took a moment to gather her thoughts. “Once you've talked to them and made your decision, I need you to tell me who's coming and when – and as much as you can find out, without tipping your hand, about what their plans are for me and for Ressler. Can you do that?”

He nodded again.

Liz figured this had probably gone on long enough that Chris or whoever was watching the security camera might start to get suspicious soon. She had to wrap it up. If she felt like she had more time, she would have tried to arrange an escape, but that would have to wait. Maybe until she next talked to Tom. “All right,” she said, maintaining eye contact, “once I say to do so, you're going to take away the breakfast tray and get out of here. But when you do, you'll forget we had this talk. You'll think you convinced me to eat at least some of this food, so I'm still a little drugged. Okay?”

Tom agreed. Liz stared at his slack, blank face and wished she had time to go digging – find out what he'd been up to since they had last seen each other, and get a few more answers to some questions she still had. But there wasn't time. “Okay. Go ahead with what I told you.” She stepped away from the door, closing her eyes and putting her hand to her head as if she were still dizzy.

“I need you to sit back down, Liz,” said Tom a second later, in a totally normal voice.

She glared at him and staggered back to the bench. “I'm only doing this so you won't stick me with a needle again,” she slurred.

“It is better this way, isn't it?” he said. “No need for anyone to get violent.”

Liz sank back against the wall and shut her eyes. Shortly after that, Tom removed her breakfast tray and left. As soon as he was gone, Liz updated Ressler as best she could. He was very glad to hear that there had been progress – and, she thought, especially pleased that it had been Tom she had been able to use. She had to agree.

The next part of the day passed slowly. Liz had to continue the charade of lethargy and weakness; she couldn't even allow herself the satisfaction of getting in some exercises in her cell while she waited. When her next meal arrived, Chris set the tray down on the floor of her cell as usual, grinning at her shaky attempts to stand. “Enjoy,” he said, and departed as usual.

Liz brought her food back to the bench and took a sniff. She couldn't tell if it had been drugged by the scent. It just smelled like a ham sandwich and a cup of orange juice. This would be the moment of truth.

Although she was hungry from skipping breakfast, Liz made herself eat slowly, and not finish the meal before she feigned the effects of the drug. To her intense relief, however, she was only pretending. Her command to Tom had been followed: the food was untainted. That meant there was a very good chance the rest of her orders would be obeyed as well.  
~


	2. Chapter 2

~

That evening, Tom brought her dinner. It was strange to watch him arrive looking like his normal self, but to have his gaze slacken as soon as he met hers. “I talked to the potential buyers,” he said, as she came over to meet him.

“And?” She made sure, once again, that she wouldn't be clearly seen by the camera.

“I'm pretty sure the guy who ended up making the best offer is a dragon,” he told her. “I don't think he gave me his real name, though. He called himself Robert Smith.”

The name was not familiar, but that didn't mean much. “Is he American? What do you know about him?”

“He has a European accent,” Tom replied. “Maybe German or Austrian, if I had to guess. And he hates Reddington.” A hint of his own dislike crept into his voice.

“That's all?” Liz pressed.

“That's all I know about him,” he said, wincing at her increased force. “I swear.”

Liz relented fractionally. “When is this Robert Smith coming to collect his merchandise? And what does he plan to do with us?”

Tom blinked. “He told me he wasn't interested in your bodyguard. Said I should go ahead and get rid of him. As for you, he's coming tomorrow, early afternoon. He didn't say what he would do with you.”

Liz spent the next few minutes grilling her ex-husband on the ways of getting on and off this island, including how many entrances and exits there were in this building. He informed her that besides him and Chris, there were four guards that patrolled the outside perimeter of the hospital in shifts. There was a motorboat moored at the single dock, but there was no real cover nearby. When she asked him how far the island was from the mainland, his answer made her heart sink. There was no way she could fly across that many miles of open water without being seen. She hadn't mastered the art of keeping herself hidden from view yet. She and Ressler would have to try for the boat. But at least they could have Tom's help, if she played this right.

“All right.” She cleared her throat. “I'm going to need you to incapacitate Chris and the other guards tomorrow morning first thing. Then let me and Ressler out, and help us get off the island. I'll figure out what I want to do with you after we reach that point.”

Tom frowned. “Taking down all the guards without any of them noticing isn't going to be easy.”

Liz scoffed and said, with a layer of irony that he wouldn't notice in this state, “I know you can figure out a way to get it done. Right?”

He nodded. “What time tomorrow morning?”

She shrugged and ran her hands over her face. Earlier was probably better, to make sure they had as much daylight as possible. “Let's say six, or as close to that as possible.”

“Is that everything? Chris is going to be wondering what's taking me so long.”

Liz smirked. It was so helpful when her prey offered up details like that, which she might have otherwise forgotten to deal with. “Good point,” she said. “When I finish talking to you, you go tell him that I was trying to reason with you, to beg you to let me go. Our shared history, you know. Tell him you wanted to see how desperate I was, and just how much I was willing do to persuade you. I'm sure you'll both like that. But of course, you'll forget everything we actually talked about as soon as you leave – until tomorrow morning at about six.”

As Tom was about to go, Liz artfully messed up her hair, unzipped her jacket, and disarranged her shirt. Then as another thought occurred to her, she stopped her ex-husband from fully breaking eye contact with a, “Wait. Come back here.”

He dutifully approached the cell door again. She reached through the bars and ran her hands through his hair. There wasn't much to work with, the length it was now, but she thought it was a little more convincing, anyway. “All right. You can go now,” she said.

When he had vanished down the hallway that she could see from her vantage point, Liz fought the urge to rub her hands over her jeans to remove the sensation of touching Tom. Instead, she picked up the tray and continued her performance of the dispirited, sullen prisoner. Once again she made herself eat slowly and react to the nonexistent drug in the food before she had finished the meal.

Chris gave her a newly appreciative look when he arrived about ten minutes after she had 'collapsed' onto the bench again. “You are kind of hot,” he said, his eyes traveling over her. “I can see why Jensen let you try to persuade him.” He shook his head. “Too bad you're not up for anything right now.”

She didn't have to feign her glare at him. “Who says I'd be … interested in you, anyway?” she said, pulling away from him clumsily.

He just laughed, shook his head again, and left the cell with her tray.

Liz gave Ressler another update then, making sure he was ready to follow Tom if he happened to be the first one Tom released tomorrow morning. She felt fairly hopeful – and ready enough for the next day's events that it was difficult to convince herself to go to sleep. Plus, when she wasn't drugged, it was harder to ignore how uncomfortable the metal bench was. She supposed she should be grateful that it wasn't colder inside this place. Otherwise her captors might not have needed to rely on sedatives to keep her quiet.

She must have fallen asleep eventually, because she was jerked awake by the sound of voices and multiple footsteps outside her cell. She sat up quickly. This did not sound like Tom and Ressler. The voices were unfamiliar. Something had gone wrong.

When a male dragon she didn't recognize arrived outside her door, flanked by guards and holding Tom by the throat, Liz gasped. This had to be Robert Smith – and he had gotten to the island much sooner than expected. Tom's face was blank, other than the signs of pain.

“Hello, Miss Keen,” Smith said with a wide smile. “It seems I was wise to show up early. This fool obviously underestimated the danger he would be in, trying to look after a prisoner like yourself almost entirely on his own. Sorry I interrupted your clever escape plan. Jensen told me all about it – or should I say Tom? I had to convince him first, of course.”

_Ressler_ , she said, as she stood up and tried not to panic, _Ressler, get up. Robert Smith, he--_ But then she stopped, as Smith stepped aside slightly so two more guards could drag Ressler's limp form into view. There was a trickle of blood down one side of his face from his temple. But he was alive, she sensed, with a relief she knew might be premature.

“We'll keep your lieutenant alive, if you come without making a fuss,” Smith said, observing her closely. “Otherwise we'll dispose of him now.” He released Tom, and then took out a gun and aimed it at Ressler's head.

“No!” Liz raised her hands. “I'll come with you. Please.” It was clear that if she wanted a hope of getting them both out of this, she had to cooperate for now.

“Good. You're making the right choice, Miss Keen.” Robert gestured to Tom, who unlocked the cell door. “Come out, no sudden moves, and we can keep things civil.”

Liz walked toward the cell door slowly, keeping her hands raised. Tom pulled it open. As soon as she was in the hall, Robert smiled at her again, and then looked over her shoulder at Tom. “Now, please,” he said in the resonant tone that meant he was in Tom's mind.

Liz turned around just in time to see Tom reaching toward her with another syringe. She shouted and struck out at him, avoiding the needle. But he held onto it, despite her knocking him back into the wall. And then, although she fought as best she could, Smith's men pinned her arms behind her back. Liz panted and struggled, but all too soon she felt the prick of the needle in her neck. Almost immediately, she started to sag toward the floor. She heard herself let out a moan of frustration and despair, even as she slipped into semiconsciousness. It just wasn't fair. She had been so close.

Now she was being carried again, this time in someone's arms. Her hands were cuffed in front of her. The person carrying her walked for a while, then went upstairs, then out into the low light of morning. Liz squinted for a moment and then just went ahead and shut her eyes.

It was hard to make out the words of the people who were talking around her. Liz knew it might be useful if she could, but their voices were echoing and distorted, like they had been before. However, she could tell that the man carrying her was breathing raggedly. It was like he was in pain. She wondered what that meant. After some unknown amount of time walking outside, she wrenched her eyes open and looked up at the man's face. It was Tom. He wasn't looking at her, but he kept gasping in uneven breaths.

They were getting closer to a rhythmic, repeating sound that Liz felt like she should know, when a voice spoke into her mind. _Lizzie! Can you hear me?_

Liz blinked and took a breath. She knew that voice. _Red?_

_Yes, Lizzie, it's me. I'm coming to get you. Can you tell me what's happening to you right now?_

_Um,_ she said, and then frowned. Was she supposed to be speaking out loud? She mumbled an experimental word and then shook her head. No. That wasn't right.

_Lizzie_ , Red insisted, _please try to focus. I can tell you're confused right now, but I need you to tell me what's going on. Are you hurt? Are you with other people?_

Unbidden, tears pricked at her eyes. _Ressler_ , she said with a little gasp. _Tom said they were going to kill Ressler. But I said I'd go with them. I said I would. I cooperated. So that means they won't kill him, right?_

There was a pause. The sound of-- waves, that was it, the pounding of the surf, got closer. She could smell the ocean now, too. Then Red spoke again. _I can sense Ressler's mind, Lizzie. He's not dead. Are you with Tom right now? Who else?_

_There's … a dragon. He wants the Fulcrum. That's what Tom said._ Liz was suddenly terrified. The drugs were still too strong for her to fight them, but she started to cry and move restlessly in Tom's arms. “No,” she said. Her voice got louder. “No, no!”

Red said something in a calming tone, but Liz didn't hear it. She wasn't outside anymore. She was in a hallway, in a dark house. The window at the end of the hall was open. The curtain blew outward. There was the smell of smoke coming from somewhere nearby. She could hear people arguing. Some of the things they were yelling about had to do with her.

Abruptly she was back outside, on her back on the ground. There were still people yelling around her, but they weren't the same people that had been there just a second ago. Liz stared up at them in bewilderment. Tom was standing over her, pointing a gun at the others and occasionally pointing it at her. This didn't make any sense. But she thought she would still rather be here than in the dark house with the smell of smoke.

_Lizzie_ , came Red's voice again, _I'm almost there. If you can, try to stay where you are, all right?_

Liz tried to reach up and wipe the tears off her face, but the handcuffs made that difficult. The dragon and Tom and the others were still shouting. She sniffed. _I'm scared._

_I know you are_ , he said, and the warmth in his tone brought tears to her eyes again. _Just hold tight, my dear. You're going to be okay._

But Liz barely had time to absorb this before she was pulled roughly to her feet. She tried to focus, and to be as alert as possible. It was Tom who was holding her against himself, his arm around her throat, with something cold and metal pressed against her head. She could feel as well as hear him shouting at the others. “If you try any of that again, I will kill her!” He pushed the metal harder into her temple, and she made a feeble attempt to move away which he stopped. “We had a deal, Smith. I suggest you stick to it.”

Whatever Smith said in response was still too distorted for Liz to make it out. She had her eyes open, but it was hard to see beyond blurry outlines of men in front of her, and the coast behind them. The sky was gray, and at that moment there was a gust of wind that made her shiver.

Just then, she saw what looked like a flicker of something red in the sky, though it was gone a second later. She frowned. The drug hadn't caused her to actually hallucinate before. This was new.

A second later, two of the men in front of her were lifted off the ground by an unseen force. They screamed as they rose into the air, higher and higher, before suddenly dropping toward the edge of the water. Liz still couldn't get her eyes to focus well enough to see for sure what happened to them after that, but based on their continued and sharper screams, the water there was not deep enough to protect them from hitting the ground.

“What the hell?” said Tom. He pulled Liz a few steps back.

Smith and his men stared up at the sky. Most of them had drawn their weapons, but there was still nothing to be seen. There was a curious sound getting closer. Liz knew she had heard it before, but couldn't pinpoint in what circumstance. Then two more of Smith's men shot up into the air. They looked oddly like they couldn't struggle, though they did cry out in fear. Liz was concerned all of a sudden that the remaining two men, or Smith, might decide to fire in the direction of their captured fellows. If they did, they might hit--

_Red!_ It was him, somehow. It had to be. She was having trouble staying upright, but she needed to, in order to keep Tom from choking her. _Red, they have guns!_

He sounded like he was very close as he said, _Yes, I'm aware, Lizzie. But I needed them to be distracted for a while, and this seemed both fitting and useful as a way to distract them. It won't be long now._

Tom swore as the other two men plummeted into the shallows and screamed in agony. He tightened his grip on Liz and said, “Liz, what is this? Tell me what the hell is going on.”

She managed a smile, though her eyes were slipping shut again. She was getting tired, and could barely hold herself up. “You should … really let me go,” she slurred.

He scoffed. “Lizzie, I'm trying to get us both out of this alive,” he said in an urgent whisper.

“Come on. Bring her to the boat,” came Robert Smith's sharp voice from nearer. “Whatever this is, we can't waste anymore time out in the open.”

Tom dragged her forward a little, but he said, “I'm not going anywhere until you promise me you'll honor our agreement! No more messing with my head.”

“Stop delaying, you idiot!” Smith yelled. “If we don't get her onto the boat, the whole agreement will be moot. Very likely none of us will be alive! Can't you see that?”

Her ex-husband seemed to acknowledge this. He swung Liz back into his arms.

A thought came to Liz's mind then. She opened her eyes and glanced around frantically. “Ressler!”

He didn't answer, not that she expected he would. She tried to raise herself enough to look over Tom's shoulder, but that was beyond her at the moment. They all continued to rush over uneven ground toward the water's edge, beyond the four men who still lay gasping and moaning in the shallows.

Tom shifted Liz so that she was over his shoulder when they started down a rough path to the water. Liz did not enjoy the jostling sensations this mad dash produced. It was probably a good thing she hadn't eaten yet, she thought dazedly.

The roar of an engine became audible coming around from the left at that moment. Liz turned and thought she saw some kind of vessel speeding toward the shore. It pulled up next to the boat that was already there, and men started to pour out of it. Armed men. Judging by how Tom stopped and dropped them both to the ground, and how Smith ordered his people to fire, these were not more of her enemies.

The shouting and exchange of gunfire was extremely loud, and overwhelming, and Liz wasn't able to do anything to protect herself. Plus, she was so tired of fighting against the effects of the sedative. The gunshots echoed bizarrely, and she couldn't make out any of the words among those that were being yelled.

Liz was only vaguely aware of the silence when the firing stopped. She didn't know if Tom was still nearby, though she could tell she was still lying on the cold, uneven ground. Red had told her he was coming. She hoped that was still true.

_Lizzie._ She turned slightly toward that voice. “Lizzie, I'm here. Can you open your eyes for me?”

The touch of a hand on her face. She flinched and tried to pull away. “It's me, Lizzie. The others are gone. You're safe.”

Red. Her father. She managed to open her eyes a crack, and saw his face bending over hers. He looked worried. She opened her eyes a little more. “You … didn't get shot?”

“No,” he said with a smile. “And before you ask, Agent Ressler is fine, too – or at least, no more injured than he was before. We'll get you both some medical attention.”

“'Kay.” That was good news. Her eyelids were so heavy. She sighed and allowed them to close.

“I'm going to pick you up now, Lizzie, if that's all right.”

She thought about this for a few seconds. “Mmhmm. Can't really walk right now. Drugged.”

“Yes. That's why I'm going to carry you,” he said, sounding amused and affectionate. A moment later, she felt his arms reach around her and lift her gently off the ground. She gave another sigh and relaxed against him completely. Maybe when she woke up, he would be able to tell her how all of this had...

She slept.

~  
She woke up gradually, to the sound of Red's low voice close beside her. There were other quiet sounds that she associated with a hospital. And in fact, when she opened her eyes, that was where she was – and Red was in the chair next to her, talking on the phone.

As soon as he noticed that she was awake, Red said, “I'm sorry, William, I'm going to have to wrap this up for now. Call me when you hear anything? Yes. Thank you.” Then he hung up and set the phone on her bedside table before leaning forward to take her hand. He smiled. “Lizzie, how are you feeling?”

She took stock. “Okay. Tired, but not drugged. A little sore.”

He nodded and said, “Dr. Llewellyn told me the particular kind of sedative you were given will most likely cause soreness, fatigue, and headache as it leaves your system. But those effects shouldn't last too long.”

“Where are we?” Liz asked. “And how's Ressler?”

“We're in a nice hospital I know, in Cardiff. Donald is fine, although he's only been conscious for a few minutes at a time. Another concussion for the poor man to add to his collection,” Red said with a frown. “They've done a CT scan, though, and found no bleeds or serious swelling.”

She swallowed. That was not something she wanted to imagine. She decided to change the subject. “I don't remember how we got to Wales.”

“Then you probably don't know how many days you were missing, either,” he said. He looked quite tired himself, Liz noted. “Is that correct?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I can't even tell you what Ressler and I were doing before we were taken. All I know is that Tom said the guy who did it specializes in taking high-value targets.”

At the mention of Tom's name, Red's expression darkened. “Ah, yes. Tom. We'll get to him in a minute. But he was right: that is what Shane Allan Kaminsky is famous for. And because of who he chose to kidnap this time, he has the distinction of being the only Blacklister to have been taken down without your direct involvement.”

Liz wove her fingers through his, touched. “You mean you talked with Cooper and the others without me there?”

“In this case, there was no doubt I would make an exception.” He smiled again, and then cleared his throat. “Anyway, you and Ressler went missing on the way back to your apartment building from an informal lunch meeting with your nonprofit's board of directors. I've made certain none of them were involved, by the way. That was five days ago.”

“Five days?” Liz repeated, staring. “Where were we for the first three of those?”

“In transit,” he said succinctly. “Kaminsky knew enough about you to know he had no hope of getting his payday without being tracked down first if he didn't get you out of the country.”

Liz's eyes widened then, as a fragment of memory came back to her. “I was in a box,” she said slowly. “On a boat, I think.”

“Yes,” Red confirmed. “The FBI tracked down the ship where you and many other prisoners were being held, off the southern coast of England, but unfortunately your ex-husband had already found you and Ressler by then.”

Liz felt a rush of fury and betrayal. She clenched the hand Red wasn't holding into the sheets. “He was going to sell me to the highest bidder – and kill Ressler if the highest bidder didn't want him. He drugged me repeatedly.” Then she gave a wry laugh. “But I also remember him telling me he was trying to save my life and his.”

“Unfortunately, Tom is no longer in my custody, though he was at first,” Red said. “I take full responsibility, for allowing him to be given medical attention while Dembe and I weren't there to supervise.”

“Medical attention?” Liz frowned. “But he escaped?”

He nodded. “A relatively minor bullet wound, as I understand it. But somehow, just as we were reaching the mainland, he managed to squirm free from those who were trying to administer first aid. As of yet, I haven't been able to track him down.”

Liz found that she couldn't sift through all of the emotions this news inspired: frustration, anger, worry (for him, somehow still, as well as for herself), and others. “I'm sure he'll be found when he wants to be,” she said, sighing.

“He is distressingly good at running and hiding,” said Red. “But we'll do our best to make sure he doesn't take either of us by surprise again.”

“That was you, right,” Liz asked then, after a pause, “who took out most of Smith's men? Using Lanneth's trick to keep yourself hidden?”

“Yes. I'm so gratified to know it's a trick I've learned well even at my age,” said Red. “It just goes to show that not every old saying is true in every case.”

Liz didn't deny it had been an impressive tactic, and would presumably continue to be so, since she doubted Robert Smith had any idea how Red had done it even if he had guessed who was behind it. Still, she hoped it wasn't one he would use often. “You know, just because they couldn't see you doesn't mean they couldn't have made a lucky shot and taken you out of the sky,” she said, tightening her grip on his hand.

“But they didn't,” he reminded her. His eyes were soft.

She supposed it was kind of ridiculous to worry about him in that situation more than others; it wasn't like him being in danger wasn't a constant. He had said so often enough. Still. She changed the subject again, asking him what had happened with Robert Smith, or whatever his name actually was.

“Robert Smith was the alias of Hans Schmidt, an Austrian dragon with whom I've had a few dealings in the past. We had a falling out in more recent years,” Red said. “I suspect he was a part of the cabal of powerful men who have the most to fear if the information that comprises the Fulcrum ever becomes public. I would have interrogated him to find out for sure, but he shot himself rather than be captured.”

Liz sighed. So many times, if there was a potential source for some answers to the questions about her past that still lingered, something happened to make sure that source wasn't accessible for long. She considered telling him about the flash of memory she thought she'd had while she was being carried out across the island to the shore – the house, the smell of smoke, the argument. But he had been there, after all. It wasn't like he needed her to fill in any details.

“Well, I think that about covers everything you missed while you were asleep,” he said then, with another smile. “Dr. Llewellyn will be by to take your vitals later, but in the meantime I suggest you get some more rest.”

She was feeling the pull of sleep, but Liz kept her eyes open. “Thank you for finding me,” she said.

He didn't reply at first. Then he clasped her hand in both of his. “You know, the ancient symbol of Wales is a red dragon. _Y Ddraig Goch_ , it's called in the Welsh language. It's on the national flag, and also features heavily in the history and mythology of the Welsh people,” he said. “That makes it strangely fitting that I found you in Wales. Maybe their red dragon was an ancestor of ours.”

Liz smiled and then yawned. “An unscrupulous person might try to take advantage of that coincidence, while we're here,” she remarked.

He chuckled. “What, return out of the mists of time like King Arthur? It's an intriguing idea, Lizzie. Perhaps that can be added to our options for the future.”

“Maybe,” Liz agreed. She blinked and then shut her eyes. She still hadn't spent much time thinking about the future, about life beyond the Blacklist. But the fact that Red would be in that future was a good thing. As frustrating as he still could be, she was certain of that.

~


End file.
